


Catharsis

by tigs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigs/pseuds/tigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She's having a bad day," Sheppard says. [Rodney/Teyla friendship, Sheppard. PG.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catharsis

The first Rodney knows of it, he hears Teyla bang her fist down on her lunch tray, and he looks over in time to see her stand up from her table so quickly, with such force, that the chair slides across the floor behind her. That isn’t the end of it, though. Halling stares at her with narrowed eyes and a set mouth, hisses something at her, and the next thing Rodney knows, Teyla is storming out of the dining hall, like Rodney has very rarely seen her storm before. 

Rodney looks back at Sheppard, sitting across the table from him, and the words ‘should’ and ‘go’ and ‘after’ are sitting heavy on the tip of his tongue. They’re teammates, after all, and that’s the sort of thing that teammates are supposed to *do*, he thinks, but Sheppard, apparently anticipating what Rodney is going to say, shakes his head. Short, sharp jerks, like he knows something that Rodney doesn’t. Which, given that Rodney has spent his whole morning holed up in the lab with Miko and Simpson, is entirely possible. 

"She’s having a bad day," Sheppard says, by way of explanation, even if it doesn’t explain anything as far as Rodney is concerned, especially as to why they—or Sheppard, at the very least—shouldn’t go after her. Sheppard continues, though, leaning forward, almost whispering. 

"Between you and me, I think it’d be wise to leave her alone for a bit. Trust me on this. What she needs now is some violence, not talk, and quite frankly, I’d much rather she take it out on someone else, someone who’s not me. Been there and done that once already today." He pauses, then quirks an eyebrow upwards, a challenge. "Unless you want to volunteer to go a round with her?" 

Rodney quickly says, "No, no. I think I’ll pass on that," because *no*, and Sheppard nods, satisfied. Rodney watches him as he leans back in his chair again, then settles back to eating. Which Rodney really should be doing, too, he thinks, because Sheppard is a sneaky bastard who thinks it’s a fun game to steal food off of Rodney’s plate when he isn’t looking. 

Still, though, Rodney can’t help glancing at the door, solidly shut again, one more time. 

* 

There are things that Rodney should probably learn to follow Sheppard’s advice about, he thinks as he stands outside the door to the gym. Things like never walking into caves that Sheppard hasn’t inspected first, or when to acknowledge that yes, that piece of space debris actually *is* a lot closer than it seems, so he really might want to turn the Jumper now. 

Things like Teyla, too, because Sheppard obviously knows her better than Rodney does, and also, she is currently taking on *three* marines with her sticks, and is very clearly *winning*. Has already won several times before, given the number of other Marines standing around the room, nursing bruises. 

He can see the sweat dripping down her forehead, trails of it dark across her temples, her cheeks, drops of it flying as she whirls this way, that, sticks moving with her usual fluid grace. Her teeth are bared, though, her eyes wild, and yes, Sheppard was right, she is definitely not in the mood for talking. 

One of her three opponents falls to the mat, and even as she keeps the other two engaged with one stick, she touches the other to the marine’s throat, and Rodney doesn’t think that he’s imagining the other man’s sigh of relief. Or the genuineness (feral-ness) of Teyla’s smile. 

Rodney watches the marine crawl away, as another soldier, one of those standing against the wall, resignedly steps forward, leans backwards as Teyla’s stick whirls towards his shoulder, and then joins in the fray. 

As she turns, Teyla catches his eye. Pauses, just for an instant, and says, "Do you feel up for a round, Dr. McKay?" Then her back is to him again, and one of the marines is flying through the air. 

"No," he says loudly, all eyes in the room (except for Teyla’s, the three marines’) on him. "No, I think I’ll sit this one out, thank you." 

"Wise choice," one of the other soldiers in the room says, and Teyla laughs, the sound loud and clear, echoing in Rodney’s ears. Another marine falls backwards under her attack and suddenly Rodney can’t take it anymore, can’t watch any longer, because this isn’t his Teyla, the Teyla he’s used to. This is someone else, a warrior, an animal, and— 

He stutters, "I’ll just be going now, things to do, people to yell at," quietly enough so that he doesn’t think anyone hears, and then he turns on his heel and leaves. 

He thinks, again, as he walks down the hallway, that there are certain things he should defer to Sheppard’s judgement about. Like, when Sheppard said not to follow, he really should have listened, because while this release does seem to be what she needed—that it will help her be okay, which is really what he wanted to know—Rodney doesn’t actually feel any better for the knowledge. 

* 

For the first half hour of dinner, he tries to pretend that he’s not waiting for her to show up, shower-fresh and smiling, the anger in her drained away by her afternoon’s activities. She doesn’t come, though, and she doesn’t come, and finally Radek calls him on the fact that he’s been pushing his corn-substitute around his plate for, well, Rodney’s not really sure how long. 

"You are making me dizzy," Radek says. "Stop." 

And Rodney tries to, he really does, but stopping means that he is done eating, and being done eating means that he has no reason to sit in the dining hall still, and Teyla still hasn’t arrived, still hasn’t come. 

It’s only when Radek’s fork enters his line of sight, spearing one of his fake-corn kernels on its tines that he realizes he’s started pushing at them again. 

"Care to tell me what is going on?" Radek asks. "Maybe there is something that I can do?" 

"No, no," Rodney says. "No, there’s really not." A pause. "I’m not sure there’s anything that anyone can do, actually." The words taste bitter in his mouth, though, like he’s speaking lies, and he realizes even as he says them that he’s wrong, that he’s been concerned, yes, and he’s gone to check on her, yes, but he hasn’t actually tried to *do* anything. 

And part of being her teammate, her *friend*, *is* trying to do something, no matter what Sheppard says. 

Also, violence doesn’t cure everything. *He* went to elementary school, he should know. 

He stands up then, with tray in hand, so suddenly that Radek’s fork makes an almost screeching noise as it slides back across Rodney’s plate, and Radek blinks up at him, eyes owlish. 

"I’m sorry," Rodney says. "I’ve got to—" and Radek, wonderful man that he is, waves Rodney on, even though he can’t know what Rodney is talking about, as Rodney isn’t even really sure himself. All he knows is that he has to get rid of his plate, find her, check on her, see if there is anything that he can do *now*. 

He doesn’t register leaving the dining hall, doesn’t really pay any attention to where he’s going until he reaches her room. He knocks on her door, calls, "Teyla? It’s McKay," loudly enough for her to hear him, but he doesn’t hear any sounds of movement inside the room. Next stop is the gym, although he doubts that she’s still there, and indeed, she’s not. 

Which, quite frankly, doesn’t leave Rodney with a whole lot of options. He stops outside the infirmary, leans back against the wall, and thinks that Sheppard would probably know where she’d gone, but he can’t ask Sheppard, because he would probably tell Rodney that he should still leave Teyla alone and Rodney, well, is resolved now not to. 

Then, as Lorne walks past Rodney, nodding his head at him, Rodney gets an idea. Well, actually it’s Lorne that gives Rodney the idea, because clipped to the waistband of Lorne’s pants is a *life signs detector*, and Rodney, well, feels stupid enough for not thinking of it fifteen minutes ago that he slaps himself on the head and says, "Of course!" really loudly. Which causes Lorne to give him an odd look. 

Rodney says, "Nothing to see here, Major," and then hurries in the other direction as quickly as he can. It only takes him a few moments to grab the life signs detector from his room, turn it on, and focus it on the outskirts of the city, where, indeed, he sees one lone dot sitting on a far away balcony, not moving. 

He starts for the door immediately, but then sees the pile of foil wrapped MREs sitting on his desk, notices the dot really isn’t moving, and on a whim decides to grab one, because the dinner hour doesn’t last forever, after all. Also, he figures that she *has* to be hungry, after single-handedly dismantling a greater portion of the American military force. 

With the aid of the transporter, it only takes Rodney five minutes to find the balcony with the dot. It’s off one of the large community rooms at the outskirts of the area of the city that they’ve explored. The room is dark, lit only to the point of shadows by the stars in the sky, but he can see Teyla quite clearly, standing outside, leaning against the balcony railing. She doesn’t turn around as he enters the room, even though Rodney knows that she has to have heard him. He moves slowly, step, step, step, step, and then he’s at the door to the outside and it slides open for him. 

He says, "Teyla." 

And now she does turn to look at him. He can see the surprise in her eyes. "Dr. McKay? I was not expecting it to be you." 

"Yeah, well," he says, and then he shrugs. Because now that he’s here, he has no idea what to say, and he thinks again that maybe Sheppard *was* right, that he shouldn’t have followed her once, much less a second time. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket, suddenly unsure, and that’s when he feels the foil against his palm. He pulls the MRE out, holds it out to her, and says, "I thought you might be hungry." 

Teyla stares at it for a few moments, then takes it from his hand delicately. She holds it for a moment before smiling up at Rodney. 

"Thank you," she says. "I was going to go down to dinner, of course, but the night is so—" She trails off, so Rodney never gets to find out what, exactly, she thinks the night is. She glances out at the water again, but when she turns back to Rodney she is frowning. "I must apologize to you, Dr. McKay, for my behavior earlier today. I should not have asked such a thing of you, embarrassed you like that, not when I knew that you would refuse." 

Again, Rodney shrugs, unsure of what to say. He thinks about making excuses for her—she was in the heat of the moment; that he really doesn’t care (which he doesn’t, because there is *no shame* in acknowledging that she can beat him with both arms tied behind her back, and probably both legs, too). He knows her well enough to know that she would buy them even less than he would. 

"You were having a bad day," he says instead. "Sheppard told me." 

"Yes," Teyla answers. "Yes, I was. It was, how do your people say it? *One of those mornings.* The Colonel saw several moments early in the day, and then Halling—" She shakes her head, as if that will clear the memories away, the words from her mouth. "But you do not want to hear about all of that. You brought me food, and I should thank you for that." She smiles at him again, then. "The day is definitely seeming better now." 

Rodney feels something very close to a warm glow begin at the base of his spine, and he finds himself grinning back, probably stupidly. Probably in a way that he would mock himself for, if he could see himself. 

He says, "You know, I’ve been told that talking about things can relieve aggression, too. If, you know, you still have aggression that needs to be relieved after the number you did on the marines this afternoon." She is giving him a *look* so he rushes on. "What I’m trying to say is this: If you *do* want to talk about it, I can listen. I may not show that I can do it often, but I can. And I’ll be happy to, if you want me to. Impartial listener, here, who has no clue about anything that’s going on." 

There is still a look on her face when he stops speaking, and if Rodney didn’t know better, he’d think that it was actually *want*, that she actually *wanted* to tell him. She’s opening her mouth, closing it again, and that’s as much of a sign as he needs, so he points at the MRE, says, "Eat," then sits down on the ground, and leans back against the wall of the railing. He pats the ground next to him after a moment, and amazingly enough, she actually sits. She also begins to unwrap the MRE, slowly, bit by bit, until finally Rodney can’t take it any longer, and says, "Okay, talk." 

"Where should I start?" she asks, one corner of her lips quirking up. 

He says, "Start wherever. Tell me what things the Colonel saw, what made him say that I shouldn’t go after you when you stormed out of the dining hall this morning." And that earns him a startled—yet, he thinks almost smugly, *pleased* look. "Then tell me about Halling. And then tell me how many marines you beat to a bloody pulp, so that I can lord the fact that I was smart enough to walk away over them for days." 

"So, at the beginning?" she asks. 

Rodney nods. "Start at the beginning." 

So she does, taking small bites of the MRE between thoughts, and Rodney listens. 

End


End file.
